Life As I Play It

For the past couple of years, I’ve been trying to beat back type-2 diabetes. Either that or I’ve been trying to kill myself. Until a few weeks ago, I wasn’t sure which.

When I first started, I quit junk food cold turkey and began a workout routine that would’ve given Clark Kent cramps. After a few months, it worked; I was taken off medication and given a clean bill of health. Of course, being my usual self-destructive self, I decided to celebrate by falling off the wagon. The result was dangerously high blood sugar levels that landed me in the emergency unit on two occasions.

On top of all that, I wasn’t getting much done on the writing front. I was up half an hour before I was to be at work, pausing only to shave and pack breakfast. I would eat a bowl of sweetened fruit for breakfast (at work), and drink about three gallons of coffee to get through the day. I would tell myself that I would accomplish whatever herculean task I had planned that night. The problem was, I was so wiped out by the time I came home that I would often promise myself that I would get to it “tomorrow”. Then, inevitably, the week would come to an end, all of those ‘tomorrows’ would catch up to me and I’d end up cursing myself every Friday for allowing myself to get buried in work. Sometimes I could dig myself out of it, others not, and I rarely wound up satisfied with the end result.

Then, I tried this ‘balance’ thing that everyone kept talking about.

A few weeks ago, I altered my routine. Nothing drastic, mind you, just a few changes here and there to accommodate the dual purpose of keeping my blood sugar in check and writing every day. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made; I accomplish about three thousand words a week, I stay on top of my social networking, and I haven’t registered a high blood sugar reading in almost three weeks. As an added bonus, my girlfriend doesn’t complain (as much) about me taking time away from her. To give her credit, she puts up with a lot. I’ve tried to ensure she knows I appreciate her sacrifice.

I thought I’d share my routine, since it works for me. If you take something from it or want to pass along advice, feel free.

7:00am-7:45am: Up; check blood sugar, light workout that includes pushups, situps, shadowboxing, and pilates, shave, prep breakfast. Automatic coffee maker makes life so much easier.

7:45am-9:00am: Breakfast; this has become my favorite part of the day, because this is when I do my best writing. Breakfast is Honey-Nut Cheerios, coffee with cinnamon, and a bowl of strawberries/blueberries. My writing goal is five hundred words a day and one completed chapter a week. So far, I’ve made that goal.

9:10am-9:30am: Walk to work. It’s about a mile, one block of which is an annoyingly and increasingly steep hill.

11:30am-11:45: Mid-morning snack, usually something sugary, I won’t lie. I also try to do ten laps around my office at break, and I owe the people I work with a hug for putting up with the consistent pacing. They’re all very much aware of it. This is critical; the ten laps I do reduce my blood sugar by maybe ten or fifteen points, which can make the difference between a high and normal reading.

1:30pm-2:30pm: Lunch (usually). It’s either a salad (lettuce, tomato, green onion, jalapenos, sliced chicken and roast beef, shredded sharp cheese, Italian seasoning, and ranch dressing), or, if I didn’t feel like making lunch, the Subway Club. Every so often I slip and get the Big Philly. Considering that the sandwich makes me woozy, I try to stay away from it. I also try to get in twenty laps here.

4:30pm-4:45pm: Final break, ten more laps.

I would like to point out that time ceases to move after the final break when you work in a call center.

6:30pm-6:45pm: The walk home.

I turn into a whirlwind when I get in, showering, making lunch, and doing the dishes by seven or so. I spend a little time on the phone with Molly and the kids, and then dedicate the night to research, twitter, and taking notes. It may not be a perfect system, but it works for me.

Thanks for reading.

Expect an update soon.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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I first discovered this mindset while practicing. Bruce Lee spoke of it often; reaction without thought. Don’t think. Feel. It becomes instinct to respond to a certain situation in a certain way. I’ve been striving at this for years, only recently did I start to understand. A punch comes, you block. You don’t think about it, you just do it. Thought requires hesitation. Hesitation forfeits advantage.

This is why I learned to run (blindly) with my first instinct. Screw who gets hurt along the way. I’m right, you’re wrong, and at the end, when everything has been wrecked, you’ll see.

I wasn’t sure how to quantify it, but it was an unsettling peace, almost like the dark side of the force. I associated people with how they smelled. Once I had that scent, I could track them anywhere. it didn’t require thought to do this, only instincts. Raw emotions. Who needs logic?

I learned to communicate without words. I’ve always found that one learns much more by observing and listening than running off at the mouth. I still believe this.

Look at my eyes. Read my body language. What do you think is on my mind?

Pay attention to someone as they walk. Within seconds, you can tell how they feel about themselves—not just generally, but at that exact point in time. When they speak, do they make eye contact? Are they shifty in their movements? Or are they fluid, decisive, and confident?

Do they know how to handle themselves?

Before I left NYC, the guy who had shown me around (and waited on the embankment when that damn train went over me) had long maintained that he had no interest in martial arts, and he had no idea how to fight. It’s a good cover; sometimes, when it’s revealed that you can fight, people want to test you. They either want to prey on you, or use you to prey on others. So I don’t blame him for keeping his mouth shut.

But we were friends. And I knew.
He had already seen me fight, we had resolved the situation we had involved ourselves in. He knew what I could do, but more importantly, he knew I was trustworthy.

So randomly, before we leave the high-priced hotel, I threw a punch his way. Nothing serious; if it had connected, I would’ve gotten his attention, but not much else.

Instinctively, his hand shot out and grasped my wrist. The look in his eyes was priceless, as though he was at a holdup, and everyone had just realized his gun was empty.

We sparred fiercely for a moment, which became a great experience with a bona-fide Kung-Fu expert. We never said  a word the entire time. Words weren’t necessary.

Anyways…logic set in about a year ago. Everything got a little crazy then, trying to adapt to everything I knew versus everything I was learning. The real world is rough.

I notice that since I have gone straight, my reflexes have dulled. At first I thought it was age, as I’m still in pretty good shape.
Instead, I find myself asking why all the time. Why do I feel a need to injure this person? Why am I doing this? What purpose does this serve?

Is there another way?

My writing is something else, though. I’ve never tried at my writing, I just do it. It’s always been that way, even before I could fight.

In fact, now that I’m older, I have found that I create the characters and their backstories (with their input) and then they pretty much do their own thing. I find myself, after a few hours, with several thousand words written. Reviewing my work often leads me to raise an eyebrow and say, “Wow, didn’t see that coming.”

When I write, I’m not conscious of the time, other people, or even my environment. I feel as though some curse may be brought upon me if I dare to step away from the keyboard before finishing the story. I end up sprinting for the bathroom when I’m finished.

The same gift I had for fighting…it’s as though it’s passed into my writing. Or it’s always been there, and I’m just now harnessing it.

This is the life I strive for…to flow freely without conscious thought, to react in the most appropriate method for situation. When I write, I want the words to flow through me, without my trying to control them. If I feel a need to raise my hands, I want to have no doubts that I have exhausted all other options. And then, I want to react in the most humane way possible.

I want to feel. Everything.

I’ve spent enough time in the darkness, and I’m really enjoying the light.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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